


Feel It in my Bones

by babybirdblues



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Fluffy, I Tried, Jason and Tim are partners, Jason is really amazing, M/M, Tim is really snarky, but slightly angsty, for winning second place on the tumblr DCU Fic Hunt, in every sense of the word, realise it yet, since this was a prize for juicemoose5 on tumblr, they just don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:15:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a rumbling against his back.  Soft and deep, almost like there was a speaker there.  Except it’s not.  It’s Jason, which would be half of the reason Tim feels safe.  His partner - in a lot of things: crime fighting, apartment sharing, and fighting-off-the-family are just some of those - just throws off the feeling.  At least he does now.  A few years ago he didn’t.  But that wasn’t entirely his fault.  Tim can’t blame him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel It in my Bones

**Author's Note:**

> So this is dedicated to juicemoose5 on tumblr for winning the tumblr DCU Fic Scavenger Hunt. It was really late, like woah. But I finished it. I hope the rest of you like it as much as they did.

Tim wakes up gradually.  He’s warm, comfortable, and - the most important thing - he feels safe.  It’s how he knows he’s in his apartment instead of some rooftop.  Because he’s done that before: fallen asleep on a rooftop out on patrol.  The stray dogs and cats he’s taken to feeding always seem to find him, sleeping beside him to keep him warm.  So the first two parts of wakefulness can mean he’s on a rooftop.  The last part though, he never feels safe out there.  Not fully.

There’s a rumbling against his back.  Soft and deep, almost like there was a speaker there.

Except it’s not.  It’s Jason, which would be half of the reason Tim feels safe.  His partner - in a lot of things: crime fighting, apartment sharing, and fighting-off-the-family are just some of those - just throws off the feeling.  At least he does now.  A few years ago he didn’t.  But that wasn’t entirely his fault.  Tim can’t blame him.

He can blame him for pinning him to the bed by being a giant.  Really, why did humans have to evolve to be this large?  It shouldn’t be healthy. 

Jason’s arm tightens around Tim’s chest after a few minutes of wiggling.  “Stop fuckin’ movin’.”

Tim’s eyebrow raises, unimpressed.  This is technically his bed.  (Technically it’s still his apartment.  He just lets Jason live here.)  He can move if he wants.  He decides to tell Jason so.  “I can move if I want.  Also, I need up you great lug.”

A pillow smacks against Tim’s face.  He’s kind of offended.  Before he gets any words out he hears Jason mumble something.  It takes a minute for Tim’s still half-sleep muddled mind to understand it - muffled as it is by the pillow currently smothering him.

"Not if y’int’ruptin’ m’sleep."

When he opens his mouth Jason presses down on the pillow.  It makes him gag a bit.  Tim makes a mental note to wash the sheets and pillow cases.  They don’t taste all that great at the moment.  He tries to think back to the last time they were washed.  He decides it doesn’t matter and struggles to get some space to yell at Jason. “Go to your own bed then!  You don’t need to sleep in mine.”

Jason just grunts.  “Not as comf’table.”

Well, Tim does give him that.  His bed is pretty amazing.  But Jason doesn’t need to _hog_ it.  “Still you great lug.  _I want out of bed!_ ”

Maybe he should have phrased it differently.  Because next thing he knows he’s on the floor nursing a sore bottom and Jason’s sprawled across the entire bed.

Wandering into the kitchen, after gingerly getting ready (standing revealed aches from tumbling off the bed), Tim debates the merits of calling Dick and then leaving for work before he gets here.  It’s only fair to leave Jason in Dick’s loving clutches.  Not only that, Dick’s been bugging them for some ‘brotherly bonding’ these last few weeks. 

(It’s Tuesday, Dick should be free.  That is if he didn’t make plans already.)

Jason’s big and strong.  He can handle some Dick-approved brotherly bonding. 

(If not, well, he had it coming.)

The coffee machine gurgles to life beneath Tim’s hands.  It’s a glorious miracle gifted by the founders of creation.  (Really, it’s the coffee machine from the cave that Tim might have liberated while Bruce was travelling the world setting up Batman Inc.)  Alfred programmed it to be perfect.  It never needs any tweaking.  Tim gets his coffee exactly how he loves it.  It’s a shame he can never take it - or his coffee - outside of the apartment.  Bruce would take it back no doubt.  Tim can’t have that.  Tim’d have to kill him, and after all the work it took to get Bruce back.  Well, yeah, he’d rather not kill him.

Soon the smell of coffee fills the apartment.  Tim knows it’s only a matter of time until he hears stirring from the bedroom.  Jason’ll emerge like a bear leaving its cave after hibernation.  He’s big enough to be one.  Angry enough sometimes too.

Speaking of bears, he has that press conference at the Gotham Zoo today.  The new program there for kids was really helping.  He could bring his own bear to show the kids that bears are a natural part of the world, except Jason’s a bit too grumpy to be let in public.  At least he is before he gets lots of coffee and a few people to maim.

Tim snickers into his cup as Jason stumbles out of the room.

"Morning sunshine.  It’s a glorious morning, smile for once?"

Jason just glances balefully at Tim, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  Tim winces slightly as he chugs it.  That has to burn.  But Jason doesn’t even make a noise as he pours himself another and begins to drink it.

Finally, Tim’s gaze must become too much for him to handle.  Because Jason looks over at him and snaps.

"What?  Do I have a fucking cock on my face or something?"

Tim barely manages to keep from choking on his coffee.  He’d rather not have it come out his nose, thank you.  Not only because it’s hot but because it’s frankly disgusting - and makes a horrible mess.  They discovered this the last time Dick crashed in the loft - since, you know, Jason doesn’t use his own bed.  Dick and Jason were fighting, as usual, and Tim can’t remember it now, but something one of them said made him laugh.  Unfortunately he had just taken a sip of his coffee.  It didn’t turn out well.  On the bright side, he did manage to spray the coffee all over the two of them on that occasion.  He’s quite proud of the distance he got.

A mug slams down on the table opposite of Tim.  It makes him blink out of his ruminations.

"Well babybird?  Do I have a cock on my face?"

Jason’s teeth are bared in challenge.  Normally Tim would smile and leave it.  But his coffee is finished, his briefcase -and bag - is packed and he just has to get up and go out the door.  “Well Ja- _ay_ , since you’re a dick all the time, I would say yes, you do have a cock on your face.  But well, that is your face.”

He ends up leaving his mug on the table.  Jason can pick it up today - who knows how many Tim’s picked up after Jason.  Darting to the door, Tim only looks back as he ducks to grab his backpack from the floor.  Jason’s face is oddly blank as he stares at Tim.  It makes the smirk stutter on Tim’s face.  If he were anyone else he probably would have broken out into a cold sweat right then and there.

But he doesn’t.

Truthfully, Tim has been bored recently.  Gotham’s crime has been extremely low recently.  Dick and Damian have been managing most of it, only calling in Jason and Tim when it involves the gangs.  Because Jason still has connections to them.  Even if the rest of the family doesn’t like those connections.  They’re useful.  Especially since Jason saves people - kids especially - in the way others can’t.

A fight - not a real fight, they haven’t had a real fight in a long time - with Jason will be interesting.

It always has been actually.  Even the ones when they were real fights.  The ones where Tim would go home bloody - not all of it his - and not talk to Bruce or Dick for a week because both of them knew what had happened and wanted him to talk about it.  Tim never wanted to talk about it.  Their fights were theirs.

They were okay.

(Even then.)

Tim may feel slightly guilty about his stunt when he sprawls into the driver’s seat of his car.  Jason left a note taped to the dash.

_Yo babybird.  Had Alfie make you lunch.  In the cooler on the passenger side floor.  Eat it, you get any skinnier you’ll disappear._

But then all guilt goes out the window.  Jason is a dick.

———

Jason’s not home when Tim stumbles in.  He’s sort of grateful.  It means it’s quiet and peaceful and Tim can suffer for a bit.  Jason never lets him suffer for long.  He says they suffer enough in their alter egos to suffer when they’re home.

Tim can sort of see the logic in that.

But right now he doesn’t care.  After the fight that broke out at the Gotham Zoo during the press conference and then the Board meeting he had to attend, Tim just wants to curl under his blanket and ignore everything.

It’s just his luck then, that that is when arms circle around his shoulders.  Before Jason even has a chance to talk Tim has an elbow in his diaphragm.  Tim can feel the way Jason sucks in a breath at the contact, can feel the way his arms tighten and then release.  There’s a sort of loss at that.  But Tim tightens his shoulders, takes a step forwards and pushes away the feeling.

"I’m not in the mood."

The stainless steel splashguard behind the stove reflects Jason.  It’s warped - Jason’s eyes aren’t that wide, nor is his face that long - but the expression comes through well enough.  Tim supposes his must too. 

Because Jason doesn’t back away.

"Don’t we have a rule about long days and shit, Tim?  To stop this kind of stuff from happening?"

He curls his arm up around Tim, trapping his arm against his chest. The fingers of Jason’s right hand slot easily between the spaces of Tim’s ribs.  It’s an odd feeling, but one he’s become accustomed too over time. 

A soft laugh escapes Tim.  Jason didn’t do anything when Tim’s forehead fell against his collarbone.  It must have hurt, because it hurt Tim.  But he just stayed still and let Tim just move if he wanted - Tim stayed.  Of course Tim stayed.  One of them always ended up breaking the rules and one of them always ended up in a situation similar to this one.  Though, in Jason’s case, Tim had to get creative.  Bindings tended to be involved.

"Come on, you ass.  Let’s order pizza and watch that stupid zombie movie Dick wanted to watch."

"Now I’m an ass huh?"  But he follows.  "So, we get to tell him we’ve already seen it when he bugs us?"

"Of course."

———

Wednesday morning is quiet. 

Jason doesn’t start an argument and Tim feels settled enough he has no desire on his own for it either.  The fact that he feels slightly guilty for yesterday has nothing to do with it. 

Really.

(Okay, so, he feels a lot guilty about snapping at Jason when he got home.  But they knew what they were getting into when they became roommates, partners.)

Tim actually managed to get up and to work without waking up Jason.  It could be because Jason spent the night on the couch.  It was odd.  Especially because on nights they fight they either don’t sleep or they share the room, to make a point.  It was different.  Tim’s not sure what to do with the difference.

He ended up making Jason breakfast and leaving it on the table for him to heat up later.  Hopefully the action will be appreciated.  If not he can spend the next few nights at the manor and set Dick on Jason. 

Dick always figures this stuff out - when Tim and Jason get weird he means.  His brother just seems to _know_.  It’s part terrifying, part wonderful and part convenient.  (But no one is to tell Dick that on threat of a very painful death.  No one.)

Tim’s just unfolding from over his computer debating a late lunch - and when did it get to be one? it was just ten when he last checked - when his email alerts him to a new message. 

From: deadboyz4life@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: you better not be buttering me up for something babybird

_But if you are, I am fucking waiting for it.  You cannot get my guard down with food - delicious food - but you cannot get it down._

_Also, fucking eat something._

Tim’s bemused.  Mostly at the email address.  Really Jason?  Deadboyz4life?  He couldn’t have picked a less painful topic - because Tim’s sure he uses this email to send miscellaneous emails to Bruce.  Hell this is probably his _'let's see if we can break Bruce'_ email and he just decided to email Tim from it.

From: timothy.j.d-w@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: I have no idea what you speak of grumpy

_I made too much breakfast, so, I left you some.  I have no idea why you would be suspicious of that._

_Also, who’s to say I haven’t eaten yet?_

He hasn’t.  But Jason’s can’t possibly know that.  He can’t - Tim knows he doesn’t have any bugs in his office; he does a _daily_ check.  Some days he does an hourly one.  (Those are his especially boring and paranoid days, so sue him.  He’s gotten better.)  So, yes, he knows Jason doesn’t have any bugs in his office.

From: deadboyz4life@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: grumpy? have you seen yourself in the morning. I’ll record it for you.

You don’t make breakfast for anyone but yourself babybird.  Wait, except Alfred.  Alfie gets special treatment that not even B gets.

I texted B.  He hasn’t seen you emerge from your pile of death in hours.

From: timothy.j.d-w@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: uh-huh. pot calling kettle.

_Pile of death?  It’s paperwork.  That Bruce doesn’t do and so **I have to**.  If he wants to see me he should do it **himself**._

_And I make you breakfast - or coffee.  I make you coffee!  It counts as breakfast._

From: deadboyz4life@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: I was born a ginger, as you assholes keep reminding me.  Aint no black hair on this bod unless I dye it.

_Babybird, one day it took us an hour to dig you out after you fell asleep underneath it. **Pile of death**._

_Coffee is not breakfast.  Coffee, while nectar of the gods, does not have any nutritional value and is not solid.  It cannot sustain you._

**_Now eat._ **

Tim would have been eating already.  If Jason hadn’t been bugging him.

From: timothy.j.d-w@wayneenterprise.org

Subject: we know the top is ginger, but Dick insists that until you prove you match you can’t claim to be a true ginger

_I am now you ass.  Stop emailing me so I can eat._

His computer beeps a few times to show he has more messages.  But he ignores it.  He has to if he’s going to eat - otherwise he’ll just continue emailing Jason back.  Which is not a problem!  Definitely not a problem, except for his blood sugar levels.

Sighing Tim stretches.  He maybe should have been moving throughout the day.  But losing track of time is easy enough.  Especially with all of his work, Bruce’s work and Lucius’ work (to be fair though, Lucius is on vacation).  He wonders if he can lock Bruce in a closet and make him do his own work?  Probably not.

Meandering down the hallway, Tim goes to enter the hallway when his phone chirps.  Looking at the text he can feel his eye start to twitch.

_Eat Tim.  I will come there and make you._

First off, Jason can’t make him do anything.  Secondly, Bruce is in his office and Tim’s pretty sure Jason’s still avoiding him for some thing or another that happened earlier this week.  Clicking the button to keep the doors open he fires off a text before turning the phone to silent. 

He’s going to go out and enjoy his lunch.

_Yes, mother._

——-

All the lights in the apartment are out when Tim stumbles in the door.  It’s quiet too.  But considering it’s quarter to eleven he’s not really surprised.  He does wonder if Jason decided to forgo patrol like he did and is in bed, or if he’s out with Dick and Damian.  Either way Tim’s extremely glad for the darkness.  It helps ease his searing headache.

It’s only when he strips and stumbles into bed that he gets his answer.  Jason is definitely more solid than the mattress.  But Jason only grunts and bats uselessly at Tim’s side not even bothering to really try push him off.  The half-huff, half-snore that escapes Jason, makes Tim reach for a pillow to muffle his laughter.

Eventually the laughter tapers off and he wiggles into a more comfortable position.

"Night Jay."

A groan is the only response he receives.  It’s okay though.  Jason is warm beside him and things are okay.

—-

The night shatters.

Tim wakes choking, eyes burning in sync with the burn in his throat.  His arms are tangles, held against his sides by a binding of some sort - the blankets that he stole from Jason at some point - and his legs kick aimlessly.  He’s choking and fighting and he cannot breathe, cannot get free.  There is no light to see in, there is no freedom to be had.  He is dying.

A scream falls through the surround air, taking up the last of the breath Tim did not have to spare.

(His lungs are now empty and he is going to _die_ , he’s _choking_ and he can’t get _free_.)

There are hands on his face.  Soothing words whispered in his ear.  The voice is soft, softer than the hands cupping his cheeks.  He remembers those nights, back when he was little.  Those times in between business trips -

"M-mom?"

He doesn’t want her to see him like this.  She wanted him to be strong.  He can’t finally see her again like this.

"Babybird, come on babybird."

Blinking slowly Tim starts to focus.  That’s not his mom’s voice.  There’s no steel behind the care - and there is care, caring, worry there. 

"Tim!  You gotta snap out of it.  You’re okay.  I’m here, I’m fucking here and I’m not going anywhere."

Jason.  That’s Jason.

Jason’s here.  Was here when he went to sleep.  Tim’s home.  Home in his apartment, his and Jason’s apartment.  He’s having a nightmare - a night terror - of some kind and _Jason’s here_.  He’s not alone and he’s not going to die.

The hands on his face being to move, slowly stroking along his cheekbones.

"You with me, babybird?"

Tim just nods.  Nods, closes his eyes and breathes.  He allows himself to slump further into Jason, further into the warmth and the comfort that he’s giving.  He can’t get rid of the shaking he feels, the left over feeling of choking, dying. 

But he’s here.

"It wa-s," Tim licks his lips as his voice breaks on the _s_.  “It was just a nightmare.”

Jason doesn’t say anything.  Just moves closer, buffeting Tim on all sides.  He breathes, tapping out a rhythm against Tim’s hip - when did he move his hands from Tim’s face? 

It doesn’t matter.  He’s here.  He’s alive.  Jason’s here.  Jason’s alive.

They breathe.

——-

Tim wakes up groggy.

He feels sick, like a lead ball was surgically implanted in his chest overnight.  It’s only when he curls into Jason’s chest that he remembers.  Sucking in a deep breath he tries not to scream.  Tries not to scream all while digging his nails into whatever piece of skin he can grab.

It’s only when Jason groans that Tim realises that not all of the skin is his.  He flinches.

But Jason only mumbles in response, curling closer and locking Tim against his body.

The steady beat of Jason’s heart eventually lulls him back to sleep.

—-

When he next wakes up it’s easier.  He’s more awake, less afraid.

Jason’s let him go at some point, which is fine.  He wants to get up anyways.  There’s only so much of being held down that Tim can tolerate.  Even if it’s by Jason - who only means the best (generally).  Right now, he’s past his point ‘okay’.

But he’s careful when he crawls off the bed.  He doesn’t want to cause too many ups and downs that’ll wake his partner.  Jason deserves the sleep.

It’s not like Tim won’t be okay.

He will.  It’s just.  Last night was bad - they all have them though.

Tim’s aren’t any worse than Dick’s, Bruce’s or Jason’s.  Even Damian’s has had nights that leave him screaming and begging for someone to wake him up.  That thought alone makes Tim’s shoulders loosen - when did they become so stiff? - and a sigh escape.

He’s not alone.

They’ve all shared a piece of the burden that is Robin - that is being Batman’s partner.  He doesn’t have to go through everything alone.  It’s just that sometimes old habits are hard to break.  (At least he has Jason to help him break them.  Jason’s good at that.  Give him a crow bar and a few minutes and - _okay that is a really bad joke, Tim.  Go make some coffee.)_

—-

By the time Jason wakes up, Tim has breakfast ready.

He’s already phoned into work though.  There’s no way he can face the board and not do something drastic after last night.  They can be completely useless on the best of days - Tim’s patience is not there to deal with that.  Let Bruce do work today.  See how he handles doing his actual job.

"Morning babybird," it’s mumbled warily; Jason eying Tim up like he’s going to take the knife in his hand to someone.  (He won’t though, the only option are Jason or himself.  Those aren’t good options.)

"Morning.  Breakfast is on the stove," a piece of toast gets demolished as Jason just stares.  "Eat.  We’re cleaning today."

(If only Jason was this agreeable on regular days- ones that didn’t follow Tim’s night terrors.)

—-

The apartment doesn’t get cleaned.

Well, all right.  Tim cleans it a bit that morning.  Jason though, he does his best to be a nuisance.  For every bookshelf Tim unloads and sets about reorganising, Jason would steal a book and place it in some obscure place.  Once Tim was on the lookout he’d pounce. 

Unluckily for Jason, Tim is an excellent hit with his bo.  While he doesn’t have his bo on him, the Swiffer Duster works just as well.  His partner is sure to have more than one bruise.

(It seemed today was one of the normal Days After.  Jason was pulling out all the stops to act like he normally would when Tim tried to clean.)

Unluckily for Tim, Jason is persistent.  It’s just after lunch when he’s caught unawares.  Jason manages to get under his guard, arms snaking up to find the few spots Tim’s ticklish.  Flailing dangerously Tim drops the Duster.

"Jason, stop!"

Tim falls over laughing, accidentally pulling Jason down on top of him.  His left leg ends up twisted awkwardly underneath him, bent at an angle so that he presses against Jason’s hip.  Jason, luckily, managed to catch himself.  Tim won’t be squished this morning.

But looking up into Jason’s eyes, Tim wonders if maybe it would have been better to be squished - to continue to mock fight.  The hand resting beside his head brushes against his ear.  It makes him jump a bit; shift him closer to Jason, closer to the look on Jason’s face. 

It’s strange.

Has Jason always looked at him this way?  Like Tim’s going to disappear, leaving naught a trace. 

If anyone should be worried about that it’s Tim.  Jason’s done it before.  (Even when he’s lived with Tim.)  Because Jason isn’t used to being tied down.  Not since he came back.

"Tim-"

"Jas-"

Jason stops.  He shifts.  The shift causes his hips to settle further against Tim’s legs.

Tim really wants to kiss him.

He doesn’t know why or when it happened.  But Tim really wants to kiss Jason.  He thinks he can actually kiss him - Jason probably won’t run.  Not with the way he keeps looking at Tim.  All he has to do is lean up and close the space between them.  Jason’s eyes have frozen him though.  The cool ocean blue, swirling with something Tim can’t read, keeps him in place. 

He’s not breathing, not really.

(And this is completely different than last night’s not breathing.  Last night was choking.  Right now Jason is stealing his breath.)

Something changes between breaths. 

It might be Tim, it might be Jason, hell it might be both of them.  It doesn’t matter in the end.  Not when the conclusion to the change is Jason’s lips softly pressing against his own.  It’s tentative; like Jason’s not sure he’s allowed it.  But he is.  Because Tim wants it: wants Jason to kiss him, wants to kiss Jason back.

So he does.

Jason laughs.  It’s deep and mostly in his throat.  Tim can feel the vibrations in his fingers - it was an unconscious decision to lift his hand but it’s one of his best ones yet.  All in all it’s wonderful.

"This is okay, right?"

He gets a sharp grin in return.  “Yeah, babybird.  If you want this, this is okay.”

All breath in his lungs seems to leave him.  He didn’t realise that he wanted this, that he had this before.  Because they have.  Everything up to now was this - just, without the kissing, the more intimate touch.  They are _partners_.  “I do.  I _want_ this.”

"Okay," Jason murmurs against his lips.  "Okay."

Tim is more than okay that they stop talking.  It means more kissing, which is something he really misses now that he knows he was indeed missing it.

—-

Their afternoon is spent curled up in bed.

Mostly it’s at Tim’s insistence.  He wants to explore this new chance before any of the family barges in.  Jason’s spread out underneath him, curled into his smaller form.  He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound as Tim trails hands down his sides and across his stomach.  It’s sort of unfair.

"I’m sort of surprised Dick didn’t lock us in a closet months ago."

Jason hums, taking a hold of Tim’s wandering hand.  He entwines their fingers and settles it on his chest, just in front of Tim’s nose.

(Tim laid his head on Jason’s chest and refused to move it.  If Jason wants him to move he’ll have to make him.)

"Nah, Dickie’s actually pretty chill with personal space.  He might decide to grill us on the details later once we’re cool with everything.  But until we are he’ll keep a good distance."

Jason would probably know better. 

Dick always kept a bit of distance between the two of them to begin with.  He just hopes that Dick will be okay with it when they’re ready to share.  It wouldn’t stop him - Batman wouldn’t stop him - but it would be nice to have his support.

Tim’s fingers tighten around Jason’s.  “You get to tell him.”  He feels Jason move to look down at the top of his head.  He’s probably raising an eyebrow at his tone - and okay he does sound petulant.  But really, Jason was always the favourite.  To both Dick and Bruce and he’s older.  It’s only fair he breaks the news to them.  Tim will tell Alfred.  (He can hide, safely, in the kitchen.)

"Sure.  Want me to text them now?"

There’s a crack as Tim’s skull connects to Jason’s chin.  Jason swears, covering his face as Tim’s hand smacks down over his mouth.

"No!  No.  Texting is a horrible way to inform someone of personal information.  I’ve learned that the hard way."

The very hard way.  He will never forget the tongue lashings he received from Steph and Tam from the last dual text he sent off.  He’s not about to let Jason put them both in that situation.  Because it would get back to the two of them.  (Probably through Babs.) 

"Just, invite Dick over?  Dick can tell Bruce."

Jason nods slowly, eyebrow raised before his eyes trail down to Tim’s hand, which is still covering his mouth.  Tim grins sheepishly and lets go.  Leaning down he presses a quick kiss to the side of Jason’s mouth before moving to leave the bed.

He doesn’t get far.

"Dickie can come over tomorrow.  Today is for us."

——-

True to his word, Jason does invite Dick over the next morning.

Tim just didn’t think he’d be there when he woke up.  But, well, Tim did get used to it when he lived in the Manor.  Dick was always _there_.  Even when he was supposed to be in Blüdhaven because that’s where his apartment was.  He always claimed he was lonely.  Alfred certainly didn’t mind and Tim couldn’t bring himself to mind much either.

(Dick is a five year old, really.

Even now.)

But now that Dick’s in his kitchen Tim sort of wishes he had a bit of _time_.  There are too many ways he can see this morning going.  Far too many of them end badly.  While he’s pretty sure he can survive it - eventually - Jason’s just been getting along with the family and he doesn’t want to risk that.

"Oi, babybird," Jason smacks him up the head as he walks by to put breakfast on.  Tim throws him a disgruntled look in return.  "Stop over thinking things.  It’s bad for your health and well, I like you alive.  Well, I like you on your back too - but that’s a different kind of thing."

Tim can feel himself going red.  More so when Dick drops his spoon completely ignoring the cereal set in front of him.

"Tim!?"

"Morning Dick."

Jason leers behind the older man making it harder to look Dick in the eye.  The speech he prepared last night ends up leaving his mind and he just mumbles a few sentences before slumping in an empty chair.  “Coffee.”

"Jason!  Someone tell me what’s going on!  This is not your normal," Dick waves his hands, barely missing Jason with his spoon.  "thing!"

It’d probably be better to just bite the bullet.  (Isn’t that a thought?)  So, Tim opens his mouth but Jason comes up behind him and pulls off the shirt Tim’s wearing - which just happens to be Jason’s.  It happens without so much as a ‘by your leave’.  Tim ends up blinking at Dick.  Who, in turn, blinks back before his eyes find a group of marks left on Tim’s collarbone the night before.

"Is that a hickey?" Dick sounds so scandalised Tim cannot help but laugh.  It starts off as small chuckles into his cup of coffee.  But soon his shoulders are shaking from the force.  Jason smiles at him fondly from by the sink, even as Dick gapes unattractively across the table.

"I don’t know Dick, is it?"


End file.
